


Real Life Sucks Losers Dry

by elithewho



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Begging, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Coercion, Come Eating, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gags, Groping, Hand Jobs, Knifeplay, Loss of Virginity, Masochism, Masturbation, Mommy Kink, Nipple Licking, Non-Consensual Spanking, Period Sex, Premature Ejaculation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Sadism, Self-Harm, Slurs, Spanking, Tears, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:04:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4136790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elithewho/pseuds/elithewho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenage Frederick is terribly resentful that he still needs a babysitter at his age.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HEED THE WARNINGS FOR ACTUAL CHILD MOLESTATION HERE, CHILTON IS 14.
> 
> i know, i know, what the fuck is wrong with me. i am a sick fuck, but i am at peace with my sick fuckery, so here you are, world. enjoy?
> 
> there is much more to come, btw. pay close attention to the tags as i add them because there will be more possible triggers in later chapters.
> 
> dedicated to morgan, this is all your fault for encouraging me. and the credit is all hers for the title idea.

“I’m too old for a babysitter,” Frederick moaned for what felt like the hundredth time.

His mother ignored him, buttoning up her coat. Par for the course, really.

“Mind your cousin, Frederick,” she said dismissively, patting his head like he was still six. His father had already disappeared into the car. Frederick wouldn’t dare whine to him about the babysitter situation, but his mother was sometimes more pliable. Sometimes.

Not this time. She was out the door before Frederick could open his mouth to say goodbye. He lingered in the foyer for a minute, seething with resentment. He was 14, he didn’t need a goddamn, fucking babysitter, especially not his cousin Heather who, at 18, was about as mature as a 12-year-old…

Frederick stuffed his hands in his pockets and went back to the living room where Heather was watching TV. He was about to open his mouth to ask about dinner when she interrupted him.

“Your mom left money for pizza, you can order whatever, I don’t care,” she said, not even looking at him.

“OK,” Frederick mumbled sheepishly and shuffled off to the kitchen and the crisp twenty dollar bill on the counter next to a neatly written list of house rules. Frederick was willing to bet Heather would break at least half of them during the course of the night.

Frederick was resentful about being treated like a kid still, but Heather turned out to be a better babysitter than Mrs. Wainwright next door, who was old and smelled like dead animals and made him watch PBS with her. Heather, at least, had better taste in TV. And she didn’t hound him about doing homework. It wasn’t so bad, really. Heather basically ignored him, which he was used to, and let him eat most of the pizza. He was thinking Heather was ideal, as babysitters went, when there was a knock on the door. Heather bounced up quicker than a dog being called for kibble and when she returned she had a boy with her.

“Go away,” Heather said immediately.

“This is my house,” Frederick said, petulantly.

“Your parents left _me_ in charge. Go away.”

Frederick glared at her for a minute and then at her boyfriend. A tall, football player-type in a pastel polo shirt leaning against the doorframe looking bored. Heather raised an eyebrow at him, tapping her foot impatiently. Frederick sniffed in annoyance and stalked off. 

Frederick stared at his ceiling, silently fuming. He knew what they were doing down there, he wasn’t stupid. Even if he hadn’t done it, he knew what they were doing. “No boyfriends,” had been on his mother’s list of rules. “No girlfriends,” hadn’t been included because she knew there was no need. Frederick had never even held hands with a girl. 

He couldn’t even do homework to distract himself. He’d already finished everything for the weekend. Frederick glared at his stack of books, growing more and more annoyed. Heather had always been pretty and popular, with a dozen boys trailing after her. The kind of girl that openly ridiculed Frederick almost every day at school.

Before he knew it, Frederick was creeping along the hallway in the dark. There was a place near the top of the stairs where he had a clear view of the living room. He used to sit there and spy on his parents having dinner parties when he was younger. Crouching in the dark, Frederick could see Heather and her boyfriend, writhing around on the couch.

At first it was just the guy’s back and Heather’s legs hooked over his hips. Then they shifted and Heather was straddling his lap. He had both his hands up her shirt, moving around. Frederick stared, mouth very dry. He watched him tug insistently on the hem of her shirt. Heather relented, giggling, and pulled it off. Frederick had the strangely conflicting urge to both look and away and to keep staring. He’d flipped through his dad’s not so secretly hidden Playboys as much as he’d dared, but Frederick had never seen a real girl topless before. Somehow bathing suits didn’t count. Seeing Heather in just her bra was so much more arousing, even if it was basically the same amount of skin. It was pink with yellow polka dots. Her boyfriend seemed excited too, grabbing both her tits and massaging them.

“Jeff, not so hard,” he heard Heather say sharply.

Jeff ignored her, still squeezing her tits like he was juicing an orange. Frederick could hear his own heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears. He licked his lips, watching Jeff’s hands move roughly over her breasts. Frederick was uncomfortably hard, but he ignored it, for now. He could hear Jeff muttering something.

“No,” Heather growled in response. “Not here.”

“C’mon, please?” Jeff said, a distinctive whine in his voice. 

“No, I don’t feel like it.”

“Stop being such a bitch, Heather,” Jeff snapped.

“Whatever, you can leave if you’re gonna be like this all night.”

Frederick watched, disappointed despite himself, as Jeff got up, looking furious as he stalked off. The door slammed behind him and Frederick kept staring at Heather as she began fixing her clothes. Frederick didn’t know if he moved, or made an unconscious sound, or if Heather just happened to look in his direction, but suddenly she was looking right at him. Frederick scrambled to get up so quickly he bashed his knee on the railing, trying to dash down the hall, but he wasn’t quick enough. Heather lunged up the stairs and was on him before he could make it to his room, pinning him against the wall in the darkened hallway.

“You little perv!” she hissed, her hand around his throat, one holding his shoulder firmly against the wall. “I can’t believe you were spying on me!”

Frederick tried feebly to break away, but she was stronger than she looked. And she still wasn’t wearing a shirt. In the near darkness, he could just make out the curve of her breasts pushing against the edge of her bra. His knee throbbed dully.

“I’m – I’m sorry,” he stuttered weakly.

“You’re such a creep,” she said. “Do you even have a girlfriend?”

Frederick shook his head, feeling his face burn bright red. Heather laughed, high and mocking.

“Of course not, you little weirdo. Aunt Amy tells my mom all the time how you don’t have any friends.”

Mortified, Frederick sagged against the wall. Heather moved the hand from his throat and stroked his belly, lightly. Frederick jumped, a little noise of surprise escaping him. He was still hard, throbbing in his pants.

“Boys are so gross,” she said in a lower voice, almost to herself. “Did you like watching Jeff feel me up? Did you touch yourself?”

As she spoke, her hand skirted the front of his jeans and gave his still hard cock a sharp squeeze. Frederick yelped in alarm, trying to squirm away. 

“Huh?” Heather said, her hand unrelenting. “This is what you want, right? To get felt up?”

Frederick couldn’t do anything but pant softly as she rubbed him off through his jeans. The soft pressure of another hand touching his cock was overloading his brain, making it difficult to think clearly. The faint outline of her breasts in the gloomy light made him feel lightheaded. He recalled, dimly, a family barbeque a few years ago where he saw Heather in a bikini. Frederick had thought about it while he jerked off that night, how her boobs bounced when she dived in the pool. Now she was pushing her hand down the front of his jeans. Her fingers wriggled inside his underwear and had barely wrapped around his bare cock when he came with a weak groan, pulsing over her hand, hips shuddering as she kept him pinned against the wall.

Frederick could just make out Heather’s smirk as she withdrew her hand, wiping it clean on his shirt. He felt dizzy and a little sick. Heather let go of him, smoothing out his t-shirt where she had gripped it. 

“Congrats on your first handie, kid,” she said dismissively. “Maybe next time you’ll last longer.”


	2. Chapter 2

Frederick had decided to hide out in his room as he heard his parents shuffling out the door. He had a lot of homework to do after all. Not that he was able to concentrate on any of it. He could faintly hear Heather moving around the kitchen, going through the fridge. He hadn’t seen her since last weekend. He didn’t know what to feel about any of it. It felt weird and dirty, she was his cousin after all. But it was also unbearably hot. Heather _was_ hot, everyone said so and Frederick got a handjob from her. He felt weird about how she basically forced it on him, but he still came. It still felt amazing. Could girls even rape boys? It didn’t feel like rape, even though it made him uncomfortable and anxious when he thought about it. It also made him horny.

He’d been staring blankly at his math homework ever since Heather had arrived, trying to ignore his erection. Usually, Frederick would just rub one out, but it was all kinds of awkward to do it while Heather was in the house. He was thinking about rubbing one out anyway, biting his pen a little harder than usual when there was sharp knock on the door. Frederick jumped. He hadn’t even heard her come up the stairs.

Heather opened the door before he could even respond.

“What are you doing in here all by yourself?” she said. “Jerking off?”

“No! I’m doing homework! Go away!” Frederick snapped, turning red.

Heather smirked. Frederick self-consciously shifted his math book so that it covered his crotch. 

“Is that all you do?” Heather said. “Homework?”

“No,” said Frederick sullenly.

Heather assessed him, arms across her chest. The weather was getting warmer every day and Heather was wearing shorts. Her thighs were soft and pale under the frayed edges of acid-washed denim. Her shirt was low cut enough to show off her cleavage. Frederick tried not to stare.

Just when Frederick was beginning to fidget under her gaze, she uncrossed her arms and went to sit next to him on the bed. Frederick stiffened at once. 

“Did you like it?” she said softly, laying a hand on his thigh. 

He didn’t need to ask what she meant. He nodded his head jerkily, mouth going completely dry. Heather took hold of his textbook, which he had been clutching to himself like a life preserver. She wrenched it carefully from his shaking grip and smirked at the bulge in his pants.

“Do you wanna touch my boobs?” she said matter-of-factly.

“Uhhhh,” was all Frederick could manage.

Heather grinned and took his trembling hand, pressing it against her breast. Frederick swallowed thickly, remembering how Jeff had been rough with her and she had told him to stop. She squeezed her hand lightly around his, letting him feel her. Frederick was starting to sweat.

“Feel good?” she said lightly and Frederick nodded. 

He was so intent on what was happening that he didn’t notice her hand plucking at the button of his jeans. Frederick inhaled sharply, his breath catching. Heather went slowly, undoing the button, pulling down the zipper and easing his jeans down his hips. Frederick blushed at the wet spot on the front of his boxers. Heather palmed his erection, watching his face carefully. Frederick swallowed a moan before it could escape.

“You don’t have to try and be quiet,” she said softly. “There’s no one else here.”

Frederick nodded, but he wasn’t used to being loud. He had expended every bit of energy to be quiet in the past, to keep his moans in check, so his parents wouldn’t hear. It was so embarrassing, making noise. He bit back another moan as Heather lightly squeezed the head of his cock.

“Listen,” she said. “If I jerk you off again, you have to do something for me, too. OK?”

Frederick was panting, thrusting his hips into her hand a little. It felt so good, so much better than his own hand, even though she was moving so slowly.

“OK?” she repeated, squeezing a little harder and making him gasp.

“Yeah, OK, whatever,” he managed to spit out, not even knowing what he was agreeing to and not caring, not when she was pulling down the elastic band of his boxers and fondling his bare cock.

Frederick moaned throatily, fighting back the urge to come at once. Heather seemed pleased, stroking his cock firmly. 

“That’s it,” she muttered as Frederick sagged against the bed. He was gripping his duvet cover so hard his knuckles were turning white. “You like that, don’t you?”

Frederick could only whine, his hips shuddering as she rubbed the leaking tip with her thumb. She was teasing him, going slowly and Frederick wanted to beg her to go faster but he couldn’t get the words out. He felt her push her other hand through his sweaty hair and pull a little at the handful. He arched into her hand, desperately. She tugged harder on his hair, her hand speeding up just barely. Frederick moaned, coming hotly all over her hand and his own stomach.

Frederick lay there panting as she kept petting his hair, wiping her hand on the front of his jeans. Embarrassed, red faced, Frederick tucked his softening cock back in his boxers and pulled up his pants. Heather stared at him expectantly.

“I – um,” Frederick stammered nervously. “What did you – uh – want, or –“

His voice died in his throat as Heather took off her shorts. She was wearing hot pink panties, patterned with little hearts. Frederick swallowed thickly, still feeling weird and shaky from coming.

“It’s not that hard to finger a girl, I promise,” she said, a little pointedly, as though she’d had trouble with this in the past.

Heather lay back on the bed and took his hand, pulling it to her crotch. Frederick tried not to shake so pathetically, but she was so warm, so wet, he’d never even imagined… It was fascinating to watch her too, as she guided his fingers, directing him where to touch her and how. A pink flush had extended down her neck, into the warm swell of her cleavage and Frederick wanted to touch her there again, but she wasn’t telling him to, so he didn’t. He watched her thrust her hips, just like he had done, humping his hand until she clenched around him, squeezing his wrist hard as her whole body trembled, her bare toes curling.

When she pushed his hand away and went to stand up, Frederick stared at his wet, glistening fingers in amazement. He was hard again. Heather put her shorts back on, looking happy.

“Good for you, you actually made me come. You’re already one up on Jeff.”

She leaned down and kissed him lightly on his burning hot cheek.

“I’m gonna go order the pizza,” she said lightly, and left him alone.

Frederick jerked off frantically, smelling and then sucking his fingers, licking off her musky taste. He swallowed all his moans, embarrassed all over again, biting his lip so hard that when he came, he tasted blood.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this is when things get weird...

Most of the time, Heather ignored him. This included every time she brought Jeff around the house. Frederick hated Jeff just as much as ever, maybe more so. Particularly the times when he could her them fooling around in the living room. Frederick would lay face down in his bed, burning with jealousy, unable to focus on his homework and unwilling to go hide somewhere that he couldn’t hear them. Evenings like that always ended the same way, with Frederick desperately humping his pillow and leaving a mess in his shorts that he shamefully shoved to the bottom of his hamper.

Frederick was used to people ignoring him. His parents, his teachers, kids at school. His parents paying attention to him usually meant he was in trouble and kids noticing him meant they were going to beat him up or try to pants him in front of the whole class or some other hilarious prank. So he was usually fine with being left alone. But since Heather had showed some weird interest in him, even if it was touching him and making him touch her, he craved that attention, even if it made him nervous.

Jeff, apparently, was keeping her interest for the time being and Frederick was back to being her annoying little cousin. That’s what she called him, to Jeff, to her friends over the phone, “little.” Frederick hated being called little, hated being skinny and awkward and nerdy. Jeff was an asshole who treated Heather like shit but he was big and tall and muscular, so that’s all that mattered.

And worst of all no one seemed to care or notice how sullen and moody Frederick was acting. His mother regarded him with the same uninterested exasperation as ever and his father treated him like a lamp or a piece of furniture, some intrinsic part of the house that could easily be ignored. They were away for the evening again and Heather was there watching him. He wondered why they even bothered getting Heather to come over. It’s not like they cared what happened to him.

Frederick lay on top of the covers, hugging his pillow. He had heard Heather chatting on the phone earlier, endlessly gossiping with her friends about her other friends, driving up his parents’ phone bill. Chances were if they noticed, they’d blame Frederick somehow.

He was so busy stewing in his own inner turmoil that he didn’t even hear Heather calling for him at first. Not that she was calling his name, anyway.

“Hey, freak! Get down here!”

Frederick considered ignoring her. But the longer she screamed, the less possible that seemed. And whenever he ignored his mother calling for him to do something for her, he ended up in bigger trouble.

He groaned as he pulled himself up, paying no attention to the twinge in his lower belly that gripped him whenever he thought about being alone with Heather.

Down in the living room, Heather was sprawled over the pristine white couch, the phone cord draped over her bare legs, a magazine and a bottle of nail polish in her hands.

“What?” Frederick snapped when he saw her.

Heather stuck up her bare foot, pointing at him with her outstretched toes.

“Come paint my toenails.”

Frederick stared at her in disbelief.

“No,” he said after a beat. Heather glared at him.

“ _Yes_. Your parents left me in charge, I get to tell you what to do.”

“That’s not – _no,_ ” he said again, more firmly. He felt himself turning red and tried to beat it down. That never worked.

Heather sighed dramatically.

“Don’t make me beat you up, you little freak. _Or_ , I can tell your mom you were being rude and disobedient and watched TV all night instead of doing homework.”

Frederick was continuing to turn red, despite all his efforts to stop it. He crossed his arms sullenly and glared at her. He hated her a bit, but he also hated how a part of him got excited at her threats to beat him up.

He said nothing, but she knew he relented when he slumped down on the couch at her feet. Heather grinned triumphantly and handed him the nail polish, sticking her feet in his lap. With that, she went back to her magazine and filing her freshly manicured fingernails.

Frederick had never used nail polish before and he hadn’t anticipated it being so tricky. The little brush was easy to maneuver on her big toe, but the rest of her toenails were so tiny it was hard to paint them without getting it on her skin too. It was also very distracting, having her feet in his lap. He wasn’t into feet particularly, but Heather did have nice ones. Small, hairless, delicate looking. The heal of one foot rested in his lap, so close to his crotch that it made his palms sweat.

Heather stared at him intently over her magazine, the sound of her filing her nails pausing as she surveyed his work. 

“You got polish on my toes,” she said meanly, and Frederick was about to try and defend himself when she stabbed him hard in the arm with the pointed end of her nail file.

“Ow! What the fuck!” he snarled.

“You can do it neater than that, freak,” she said and Frederick seethed in irritation.

“I’m not a fucking girl, I don’t know how to paint nails – OW! Stop it!” he shouted when she stabbed him again. The nail file wasn’t sharp enough to break the skin but it still hurt being stabbed with it.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” she said with amusement in her voice, suddenly lunging forward and pinning him to the couch with her free hand, digging the nail file into the soft skin of his side. 

Frederick gasped in pain and tried to wriggle away but Heather’s grip was surprisingly strong. It always had been, like when she held him against the wall and felt him up. That thought came to him now, with her on top of him, even when she pressed the sharp edge of the nail file into the collar bone. Frederick whimpered despite himself, going hot with embarrassment as Heather smiled, dragging the nail file up to the soft skin of his throat.

“I think you like that, _freak,_ ” she said softly, drawing out the last word.

Heather used her leverage to push him down onto the couch, holding him still and inserting her knee between his trembling legs. Frederick squirmed beneath her, the breath catching in his throat as the nail file grazed his pulse point. He knew there was no real danger from the blunt object, but the feel of metal warmed by contact with his skin pressing on his vulnerable throat still made his heart speed up. As did Heather’s bare leg pressing against his crotch.

“Heather, stop,” he moaned breathlessly, hating the familiar tightening in his groin he experienced whenever Heather was this close. She wasn’t listening. She pushed the nail file harder into his throat and he hissed in pain at the same moment he thrust his hips against her thigh.

Heather grinned crookedly. Frederick squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment. He had a hard time looking at her like this, his face burning, his cock hardening, the sharp pain in his throat somehow adding to his excitement. 

“You’re so _annoying_ ,” she said with irritation, punctuating her words with a light stab of the file. “Sulking around and staring my tits, boys are so _gross._ ” 

She prodded his soft belly with the file and Frederick yelped, his hips rising without his volition. 

“It figures that you’d also be even more of a _freak,_ ” she continued, pushing up his shirt and poking him hard next to his belly button. 

Frederick gasped, the sound morphing into a moan as she deliberately rubbed her thigh against his hard-on. Heather stabbed him again, on his bare stomach, this time with enough force to break the skin. Frederick shrieked in pain, jerking against her wildly. Heather paused, apparently surprised by the force of the blow. She stared down at the wound on his belly. It was shallow, barely a prick, but a little bubble of blood had squeezed out all the same. Frederick was breathing hard, his whole body felt feverish and he was shaking. Heather licked her lips.

“Sorry,” she muttered, looking a little contrite. But she wasn’t letting him go.

She dropped the nail file and rubbed his belly with her empty hand. Frederick hissed as her finger grazed the small wound. He twitched and squirmed despite himself, her thumb tracing the faint line of hair disappearing into his pants. Her face was pink and solemn, no longer amused. Frederick closed his eyes, trying to suppress the little broken moan from escaping his throat and failing. She spread the little drop of blood around until it was tacky against his skin, the wound so shallow that it had stopped bleeding almost immediately. It stung fiercely, but the pain combined with Heather’s soft touch against his bare stomach was weird and overwhelming, making his cock hard and his heart speed up. Heather seemed fascinated by his reaction, pressing her thumb hard against the little cut and making him gasp, then trailing her fingers lightly down the soft swell of his belly, skirting the waistband of his pants.

“Heather, wait,” Frederick tried again, his voice cracking embarrassingly. But she ignored him again and a part of him was relieved, because deep down, he didn’t want her to stop.

Certainly not when she undid his jeans and slipped her hand into his boxers. Frederick moaned throatily, grabbing her wrist and thrusting desperately against her palm. Heather had released his shoulder and he was perfectly capable of escaping now, nothing was stopping him, but he stayed exactly where he was, letting Heather roughly fondle him. He didn’t see her reach down to pick up the nail file again until he felt it press against his throat and he jumped in alarm. 

Heather shushed him, stroking his cock firmly as she prodding the hollow of his throat with the file. Frederick’s groan of pain and pleasure sounded surreal to his ears, the beat of his heart so powerful that it seemed to echo inside him. His hearing seemed to close up like his head was underwater. He felt her thumb press hard on the head of his cock, spreading the leaking fluid and making him groan. 

Frederick couldn’t stop the rise and fall of his hips, the incessant need to feel the friction of her hand, her own pace just not enough, not nearly enough. He also couldn’t ignore the drag of the nail file down the front of his shirt, slow and steady, teasing. When the warm metal glided over his bare stomach, Frederick inhaled sharply, his mouth falling open. He felt the poke of the file against the small cut next to his belly button and he whimpered.

“ _Freak,_ ” he heard Heather mutter in a low voice and he came with a broken groan, panting as he thrust his hips into her hand. 

Frederick did not want to open his eyes and see Heather smirking at him, so he kept them shut, breathing heavily as her hand slipped out of his damp shorts. He felt her rub his belly again and he twitched, overstimulated and sensitive. Heather slowly leaned back, releasing him and Frederick shifted around awkwardly, finally opening his eyes. He watched Heather sprawl back on the couch, not even looking at him. Frederick sat up, buttoning his jeans with shaking hands and nervously pushing damp hair out of his face.

“Go away,” Heather mumbled, picking up her magazine and hiding her face.

Frederick was more than willing to do what she said this time.


	4. Chapter 4

Frederick had taken to spending so much time alone in his room, sometimes he lost track of time and didn’t even realize his parents had left for the night, off to their boring dinner parties or whatever they did. He didn’t even bother asking anymore and they didn’t tell him. So when Frederick heard Heather’s voice floating up from the living room, his heart stopped cold in his chest. 

He was naked, sprawled on his bed, dick in hand. Had he really forgotten what time it was? He had gotten horny thinking about Heather’s arrival and it was so hot with all his clothes on that he’d stripped down. And he had her nail file.

After Heather had left that night, Frederick had gone to the living room and sat on the couch. He couldn’t help thinking about earlier. His parents were home then, moving around noisily upstairs. He had touched himself lightly through his jeans, already half hard again. Then he had noticed the nail file on the floor. 

Guiltily, Frederick had picked it up. He had told himself he didn’t want Heather to get in trouble for doing her nails on the white couch, but deep down he knew that wasn’t it. Heather could do no wrong in his parents’ eyes anyway. He had just kept it in his room at first, looking at it and feeling hot and sweaty. It was so girly, too. Bright pink with daisies printed on the plastic handle. It made him feel a deep, sickening shame and also a hot tingling in his balls.

He had told himself he wasn’t going to be a little freak and use it when he jerked off, but that resolution had lasted all of two minutes when he started touching himself and in no time at all he was stabbing himself in the thigh and biting his lip to keep from moaning as he came.

It had him feel so weird and pathetic that he kept the nail file under his mattress when he wasn’t using it. He really was a freak, there was no denying it.

He could hear Heather calling for him, on the stairs now, and Frederick stowed the file in his hiding place hastily, grabbing for his discarded shirt and boxers. He was still painfully hard, he had been so close to coming when he heard Heather’s voice, and not even his panic was making him soft. He cursed, trying to shove his erection in his jeans and zip up without injuring himself.

He had just managed to do it when Heather burst into his room without knocking, as she often did. Frederick slumped against his bed, trying to look natural. Heather narrowed her eyes at him.

“Hey, loser,” she said, crossing her arms. It made her cleavage look deeper. Frederick tried not to notice.

“Hey,” he responded, not totally achieving the fake casual tone he was going for.

She blinked at him, a small smile curving the edge of her mouth.

“Is jerking off and being pathetic all you do?” she said lightly.

Frederick felt himself go bright red, even redder than he already was. He shifted awkwardly, hoping in vain that his hard-on wasn’t obvious. But before he knew it, Heather had pounced on him. He let out a weak gasp as she crushed him onto the bed, her breasts pressing - so soft and full -against his chest. 

“Stop being so weird, I know you like it,” she said sharply, pressing her hips hard against his. Frederick moaned pathetically, unable to stop his response.

Then, Heather was kissing him. She hadn’t actually kissed him before. No one had actually kissed him before. Now that was weird, he thought dully as he felt her warm lips slide over his own. She had jerked him off a few times and they hadn’t actually kissed? Any other analytical thoughts quickly fled his mind as she pressed her tongue into his mouth.

Frederick was frozen; he didn’t know what to do, with his mouth, with his hands, with anything. He just let Heather lead the way, pushing her hands through his hair and messing it up, sucking hard on his lower lip, biting it. She was grinding hard against his leg, rubbing his erection with her thigh and Frederick was squirming beneath her, already so close to coming he felt like he was going to embarrass himself like he had the first night she touched him.

But before that could happen, she stopped. She pulled back and rolled onto her side. Frederick lay there panting, feeling a little disappointed. His balls were aching. He felt Heather playing with his hair, grabbing a handful to tug on gently. Frederick tried not to lean into her touch.

“You know I can’t find my nail file,” she said causally. Frederick felt his heart skip a beat. “I really liked that one, too.”

Frederick carefully didn’t look at her face. His eyes dropped lower, naturally settling on her chest and the way her shirt stretched tight over her breasts. 

“Stealing isn’t nice,” she said, voice going low and husky. 

“I – I didn’t –“ he stuttered at once, unable to finish because he pulled his hair, hard.

“Lying isn’t nice either,” she said in a low, threatening voice.

Frederick had the impression that she was enjoying this, toying with him, making him anxious, even hurting him. It was the same sense he got from the bullies that tormented him and it should have made him feel angry and helpless like it did when the footballers cornered him before school to steal his lunch money, but coming from Heather it felt different. It aroused him hopelessly, for starters. And Heather seemed to be aware of this, enjoying that fact that he was aroused by her dominance and plays at cruelty.

“I’m – sorry,” Frederick said softly, wondering what she would do next.

Heather considered him, a calculating expression on her face.

“What are you – what’re you gonna do?” he muttered, eyes flicking briefly to her face.

Heather didn’t answer at first, she only gently traced the side of his face, her thumb brushing his lower lip, still swollen and red from her teeth. He swallowed nervously, tilting his chin into her hand. Frederick felt a warm glow in his chest, loving the attention she was giving him at the same time he feared what else she would do.

“Wait here,” she said finally, and bounced off the bed.

Frederick’s heart beat hard as he waited for her, for what felt like forever. His cock throbbed dully and he was sweating uncomfortably in his clothes, but he didn’t have the courage to touch himself or strip down, not when Heather was sure to come back. When she did return, she was holding a roll of duct tape. Frederick stared at her, open mouthed. He felt his cock twitch in his pants.

“Roll over,” she said firmly and Frederick did as she said, slowly.

He felt her climb on the bed behind him and twist his arms roughly behind him, gathering his hands together behind his back. The sound of the duct tape being wrenched from the roll was loud and jarring and Frederick startled slightly. He felt her wrap it around his wrists, cold and sticky and constricting. He flexed his fingers nervously, a cold sweat dampening his entire body. He was about to tell her that the tape was too tight when she tore off another strip and put it over his mouth. 

Heather turned him over again, settling him gently onto his bound hands. Frederick stared up at her feeling utterly helpless and unbearably turned on. She touched his neck, light fingers tracing his collar bone. She bit her lip, looking a little unsure. Then she reached behind her and pulled something out of the back pocket of her shorts. Frederick’s eyes widened in alarm and he felt his heart pump so hard that it might burst from his chest. She was holding a box cutter.

Frederick tried to scream in protest, but the duct tape muffled the sound. Heather petted his hair, soothingly.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” she said gently and Frederick deliberately tried to slow his breathing down.

He had panicked at the sight of something so lethal, but he knew deep down that Heather wasn’t psychotic. She may be a bitch, but she wasn’t going to carve him up. Not too much anyway, he thought, his mind stumbling over his racing thoughts as she thumbed the blade out of its sheath, its edge glinting menacingly in the low light. 

Heather arranged him more carefully on the bed and then straddled his hips, settling herself right on top of his cock. Frederick moaned. Not even the sight of the box cutter had softened his dick. It’s just a bigger nail file, he told himself. And a sharper one. Heather lowered the box cutter to his throat and he flinched instinctively. She paused, stroking his cheek gently, and then pressed the blade gently onto the soft skin on his neck.

“Stay still,” she said firmly and Frederick tried to comply, but it was hard when the combined weight of their bodies pressing on his bound hands was uncomfortably painful and he wanted to shift around and thrust against her warm body so badly.

The box cutter was so much sharper than Heather seemed to anticipate, and even the gentlest scrape cut through his skin. Frederick jerked in alarm, the movement causing the blade to cut even deeper and he whimpered. Heather pulled the blade away immediately, but Frederick could feel the stinging pain fiercely, and the warm trickle of blood rolling down his neck. He felt Heather smear it around with her thumb, graze the cut as gently as she could, but Frederick still whined in pain.

When he felt the cool metal press against his chest, Frederick braced himself for pain again, but it didn’t come. Heather was using the dull edge of the box cutter to trace teasing circles on his chest. There was a sharp, persistent panic making Frederick’s body feel ultra-hot and sensitive. The anticipation of pain was somehow just as exciting as Heather slowly rocking back and forth over his hard cock. 

When Heather moved the box cutter in a sudden hard jerking motion, Frederick felt a scream in his throat muffled by the duct tape. But there was no pain this time either, Heather had only sliced off a button on his shirt. Frederick was breathing so heavily he could feel the duct tape dampening around his mouth, but it held firm. Heather got to work on his other buttons until his shirt fell open completely, his soft chest bared to her.

His anxiety couldn’t dampen his intense self-consciousness at being bare chested to her, not after all the comments he heard in the locker room. That he was pale and girly and too soft, some jock grabbing him from behind and asking where his training bra was. He felt the same shame now, because he knew Heather was used to barrel chested Jeff.

Still, Heather was dragging the blunt end of the box cutter over his sparsely haired chest. She circled a soft nipple and dragged down to his belly button, where the mark she had made with the nail file days ago was still slightly red. She pulled off the box cutter, flipping it around. Frederick felt his chest tighten and he couldn’t tell if it was from fear anymore.

Heather made a small little nick next to his belly button, near where she had cut him before. Frederick moaned behind his gag. He felt blood well to the surface, the pain and danger making his heart beat thunderously. Heather traced another shallow cut on his chest, rubbing the blood into his skin with soft fingers. Frederick whined, the contrast of gentleness and pain making him grind against her all over again.

The game she was playing was agonizingly slow and Frederick was moaning uncontrollably as she alternated between light scrapes with the sharp blade and soft touches that left him aching. Heather seemed to enjoy taking her time though, and making it even more agonizing for him. Frederick breathed hard, like he had just run a few laps in gym. 

Heather had worked his pants open without Frederick even noticing and he felt a new thrill of fear dance up his spine. But when she traced his straining erection with the box cutter, she used the blunt end and Frederick twitched against it. He had lost all feeling in his fingers, the duct tape cutting painfully into his wrists, the pain flaring up whenever he shifted around. But he couldn’t help it when she pulled down his boxers and his cock bounced free, painfully hard and leaking obscenely. 

Heather raised the box cutter and for one horrifying moment Frederick thought she was going to use it on his dick. But then she retracted the blade with a flick and threw it down on the bed beside them. Frederick moaned in relief but also a little disappointment. The cuts on his chest and belly throbbed dully. But Heather was climbing off him and Frederick stared at her helplessly, trying to beg her to stay with just his eyes. She wasn’t leaving, though. She was kneeling before the bed, grasping his dick in her hand.

When Frederick had imagined his first blow job, as he had many times before, he hadn’t pictured it like this, with his hands flexing uselessly, bound behind him, his moans of pleasure stifled by duct tape, fresh cuts still stinging on his chest. Frederick was so on edge that he knew he wasn’t going to last long but he held back as much as he could, trying so hard not to come that he could feel his balls pulsing. But her hot, wet mouth was too much for him and Frederick was soon coming in her mouth, muted whimpers and groans seeping through the duct tape.

Frederick was only aware of the tears on his face when Heather tore the duct tape from his mouth and he released a fresh howl. He felt the wetness on his cheeks as she rolled him over and heard the click of the box cutter again, but this time it was to slice into the duct tape on his wrists. Frederick gingerly brought his arms to his side, wincing in pain as he flexed his sore wrists. He knew the pain would be worse once the blood rushed into his hands again.

He rolled back onto his back, his cuts stinging as they scraped against his bedspread. Heather was sprawled beside him, looking a little pale, not touching him. Frederick wiped his face with a numb hand.

“Are you OK?” she asked softly and Frederick had to think for a minute before he nodded, only because she looked so concerned, which surprised him. She still looked worried.

Frederick looked down at his himself. The cuts seemed to have stopped bleeding but they still hurt. Heather looked at him carefully.

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” she said in a strained voice.

When she returned from the bathroom with the white box, Frederick had calmed down some. His hands were aching with pins and needles, but he kept flexing them, wincing. Heather dabbed his cuts with rubbing alcohol, apologizing after every hiss of pain. Frederick was enjoying the attention, he couldn’t help it. Heather actually being nice to him, _someone_ actually being nice to him. She finished by putting bandaids on the deeper cuts and finding him a new shirt. 

His hands were still throbbing and he was probably going to have bruises on his wrists. The cut on his neck was fairly obvious, especially with the bandaid. He wondered if he should bother coming up with a lie to tell his parents or if they would even notice.

“Do you want pizza?” Heather asked softly, playing with the frayed edge of his bedspread. 

“Sure,” he said, still sniffing a bit.

Heather gave him a significant look, one that made him feel weird and anxious but not in a wholly negative way. It felt inevitable that Heather would try something again and he would probably let her. The thought probably should have scared him more than it did.


	5. Chapter 5

Frederick lay on the couch, his head in Heather’s lap. He wasn’t sure how they had gotten that way, it had just sort of happened. They had started out with Frederick sitting casually beside her as they watched TV. He had inched closer and closer until he was practically lying on her and she had pulled his head down the rest of the way, grabbing a handful of hair as she did.

He couldn’t deny how good it felt, her fingers lightly combing his hair. He felt a bit like a dog being petted, but it felt so nice. Getting attention and affection from someone was heaven. He couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him so much and so gently. Just being close to Heather was giving him a boner and her soft touch against his scalp wasn’t helping. He was practically purring in her lap, and it was a little embarrassing, but he really didn’t want her to stop. 

He was so relaxed he was almost nodding off when he felt her fingers brush his throat. Frederick made a small sleepy sound of surprise that made him blush, but the light tickle on his jaw was nice too and he squirmed around a tiny bit as her fingers lightly teased his cheek. He felt the heat growing in his groin as her fingers slid over the hollow of his throat and the bandaid still covering the cut she’d left with the box cutter. The memory of that evening was so fresh in Frederick’s mind that he squirmed around some more.

Her hand pressed a little firmer against his throat as she continued to pet him and Frederick released a breathy moan without even meaning to. He blushed furiously and shut his eyes to block out Heather’s smug grin. He curled over on his side, pressing his face into her soft stomach. She smelled nice, like sweet, fruity perfume. She stroked the back of his neck.

Somehow, Heather ended up lying down with Frederick on top on her, his face pressed between her breasts. She was still petting his hair, her nails dragging against his scalp occasionally as he nuzzled her cleavage. His face felt extremely hot and he was shifting his hips restlessly against the couch cushions, desperate for friction. He could hear her heart beating faster, but she wasn’t making a sound as he muffled his own quiet moans in her soft breasts.

Heather tugged down the neck of her top revealing her white, lacey bra. Frederick sighed, laying his face against her hot skin.

“You know what feels nice?” Heather muttered softly, tugging on a lock of his hair. “Getting my tits sucked.”

Frederick moaned weakly, his hands clenching on the couch cushion he was holding, still not courageous enough to put his hands on her, even with his face buried in her chest. Heather seemed willing to assist him though, pulling down the cups of her bra so that her bare breasts popped free. Frederick swallowed thickly, staring at his first pair of real naked breasts. They were so pale he could see the blue veins under her skin and her wide areolas were pale pink, surrounding soft, pinker nipples. 

Frederick could only gently nuzzle her bare breast with his nose, too shy to go any further. Heather pulled firmly on a handful of hair, guiding his mouth to her nipple. Frederick opened his mouth slowly, not sure what to do, but she seemed to like it when licked her firmly. He could hear her breathing become labored as her nipple hardened in his mouth and Frederick couldn’t help rocking his hips against the couch again.

The more Heather began to moan, the more encouraged Frederick felt and soon he was palming her breast while flicking the nipple with his tongue, enjoying the sounds of pleasure she was releasing. He squeezed the other one with his free hand, loving its wonderful plushness and the firm nipple against his fingers. Heather was wriggling beneath him, her thighs squeezing his torso, keeping him in place. Frederick switched to her other breast, tonguing the hard nipple firmly and squeezing clumsily at the spit slicked breast he’d left behind.

Heather was pulling restlessly at his hair the whole time but soon she must have gotten impatient with the persistent flicks of his tongue and she jerked his head back hard with a handful of hair. Frederick was panting like she was, the throbbing in his pants driving him to distraction. Heather was wriggling out of his grip and Frederick thought he might have done something wrong but when Heather pushed herself up to a sitting position, she unbuttoned her shorts and pushed them down. Frederick stayed very still, trembling a little as Heather pushed him further down the couch with a hand on his head, hooking her legs over his shoulders after tugging off her pink floral patterned panties.

Anxiety threatened to send Frederick into a panic, but he fought to keep his breathing under control. Even when Heather had made him finger her, he hadn’t seen her totally naked. And now she was sliding close, her crotch angled towards his face. Frederick swallowed again, trying to fight off his nerves. He had no idea what he was doing, but Heather was pushing him toward her cunt with a handful of hair all the same. 

All at once, her smell and taste overwhelmed him. She tasted musky and slightly sweet and Frederick remembered jacking off while licking his fingers after touching her that one time, how the scent was so faint. It wasn’t faint now and she was just as warm and wet as she had felt before. Frederick felt like he was drowning in her, with Heather shoving his face against her cunt and keeping him firmly in place by the hair. 

Frederick found it wasn’t so hard to lick where she guided him to lick, concentrating on the hard button of flesh over her cunt that must be her clit because she moaned and twitched whenever he licked it. She was squeezing his head with her legs so tightly that Frederick found it hard to get leverage. He gripped her thighs firmly as he plunged ahead, licking and sucking her clit like he had her nipple, hoping for similar results. He could hear Heather panting, thrusting against his face as she tugged wildly at his hair. 

His jaw was beginning to ache from the strain when he felt her tense up and shake, her thighs tightening their grip on his face painfully. Frederick kept obediently lapping at her clit until her thighs loosened and she pushed him away. Frederick sat up, looking at her. She was bright pink and shiny with a layer of sweat as she pushed her boobs back into her bra. She looked pleased and accomplished and Frederick whined fitfully. He was so hard in his pants that he groped himself, feeling the wet patch that had seeped through his jeans. 

Heather beckoned him forward and Frederick went gratefully, falling onto her chest in relief as she shoved a hand down his pants, fondling him roughly. Frederick pushed his face into her soft breasts, squeezing one awkwardly as he rutted into her hand. He was so close that it only took a minute or two for him to come with a sharp groan, dampening his pants further, pressing his hot face into her breasts. 

Frederick panted against her chest as she petted his hair again and it felt so lovely that he wanted to fall asleep like that. He wanted to lift his head to kiss her again, but he was too afraid, not brave enough to do anything without her incentive. 

Far too soon, Heather was pushing him away.

“I’m sweating like a pig,” she said lightly. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“OK,” Frederick mumbled automatically, awkwardly arranging himself into a more casual position on the couch.

Heather ruffled his hair as she walked past, pulling up her panties one handed. Frederick felt the same misery he used to feel when his mother would leave him every night to go out and not come back until far past his bedtime without even sneaking in to kiss him goodnight. He thought he has gotten over that particular longing, but the similar ache was rising in his chest anyway. He felt deeply pathetic, watching her walk away and he wanted her to come back, even if it wasn’t to cuddle him, even if it was to slap him or cut him or whatever else she wanted. 

Frederick flopped back on the couch, listening to the shower start upstairs and feeling empty, miserable and damp.


	6. Chapter 6

Frederick didn’t like to think of himself as a freak, he really didn’t. He’d been called a freak so often that the sting had mostly worn off the insult. But when Heather called him a freak, and _why_ she called him a freak… he was finding it harder and harder to deny it.

He lay on his stomach, face buried in his pillow, humping his hand slowly. He had a bent paperclip in his other fist, pressing the sharp point into belly. Not hard enough to break the skin, just enough to make teasing sparks of pain flare up his spine. He never started out wanting to hurt himself while he jerked off, but sometimes he just couldn’t help it. He usually thought about Heather, too. Her body, the way she touched him. The way she hurt him.

She wasn’t there that night, even though his parents were gone. She was supposed to be babysitting him again but she had gone off with _Jeff_ and Frederick hadn’t been able to enjoy his sudden time alone because he was seething with impotent jealousy. 

Frederick moaned throatily into his pillow. Even when he was alone, he wasn’t comfortable being loud when he jerked off. It felt too strange. And he was being strange, dragging the sharp end of the paperclip under his bellybutton. His face felt hot, feverish, as he muffled his own moans in the pillow, his hips working harder as he fucked his own hand. He thought about the box cutter lightly grazing his throat, how vulnerable and helpless he had been, and came with a shuddering moan onto the mattress. 

Panting hard, Frederick rolled away from the damp spot on his sheets and wiped his hand on his duvet. He looked down at himself and the jagged pink scrapes on his stomach. He felt a little sick with himself as he tossed away the paperclip. He really was a freak.

Frederick was putting his clothes back on when he heard the front door open from down the stairs. He froze, wondering what could have brought his parents back so early. But he couldn’t hear the sounds of his parents talking or the usual noises he associated with them coming home. It must be Heather, he thought in a daze. 

He zipped up his jeans shakily and pushed his sweaty hair out of his face. He could hear her coming up the stairs now and he was sure she would barge into his room again. At least he wasn’t in the process of jerking off again.

Sure enough, the door banged open and Heather stood leaning against the frame. She looked unhappy. In fact, she looked downright nasty and Frederick felt a strange chill run up his spine.

“Hey, freak,” she said casually.

“I thought you were with Jeff,” Frederick said, unable to keep the sullenness from his voice.

“Jeff is an asshole,” she said with a hint of viciousness. 

“Yeah,” he said, unable to stop himself agreeing.

“Jerking off again?” Heather muttered as she sauntered into the room. Sauntered was the only word for it, the way she swung her hips. She was wearing a _very,_ short skirt.

Frederick turned red but didn’t otherwise answer. Heather sat beside him. She smelled like cigarettes and booze and it wasn’t entirely off putting. He was reminded a little of the way his mother smelled after one her many dinner parties, when he was still small enough that she would hug and kiss him. It was too strange, smelling it on Heather now. She leaned over and kissed his neck.

Frederick gasped and startled. She leaned closer, sliding a hand over his thigh and sucking roughly on his throat. He was breathing hard already, his body still hot and tingling from his recent orgasm.

“So I guess Jeff wasn’t into you tonight?” Frederick muttered. It was mean, he knew, but he couldn’t help it.

Heather pulled back, her expression darkening. He could sense the slap coming but he didn’t flinch away, not until it connected. The sharp sting made him jump but she was holding his arm tightly and he couldn’t move anyway. She kissed his mouth then, her teeth clamping onto his lower lip and tugging. Frederick gasped, letting her do whatever she wanted. He was already hard again.

Heather grasped him by the shoulders and pushed him down. Frederick went without fighting it, knowing that Heather always got what she wanted in the end anyway. She leaned over him, kissing his mouth and neck at random as she plucked open the button on his jeans and jerked down the zipper. Frederick tried to kiss her back but it was maddening trying to chase her mouth as it kept evading him, to nip at his ear or lick his neck.

When she paused to pull her shirt over her head, Frederick could only stare, hands clenched at his sides. She unclasped her bra and threw it aside. Her breasts were as firm and amazing as he remembered and his hands rose to touch them at their own accord. His sweaty palms stopped a hair’s breadth away from cupping them, suddenly nervous at her reaction. But, impatiently, Heather grabbed both hands and pressed them to her chest. He squeezed, so distracted by her bare, soft skin and rosy nipples that he could barely pay attention to her hands or what they were doing.

Her fingers on his cock startled him, but Frederick wasn’t about to stop groping her. He arched into her hand like he always did, unable to help it. He didn’t even process what was happening until he felt unimaginable wetness and warmth brush the head of his dick. He groaned, squeezing her tits harder and pushing his face between them. She jerked his cock slowly a few times and then pushed her hips down. Frederick could hear his own pathetically high pitched whine but he couldn’t contain it, his hips squirming uncontrollably at the feeling. She was so warm, so wet. It was unreal.

Frederick was panting into her chest as she rocked carefully over his cock. The slickness was almost too much, it was like being massaged by thick, warm water. But tight, like a vice, better than any fist. He pumped his hips erratically, overcome by the feeling. He dropped his head, unable to breathe, gasping for fresh air like a drowning fish. 

He felt Heather pet his chest and he stared blearily up at her, at her curiously closed expression as she held him down. Then Frederick saw something out of the corner of his eye: a red smear on his chest. Panic cut through him so suddenly that he jerked back, as much as he was able. There was no doubt about it, there was blood on his chest, bright red and sticky. It was on Heather’s hand.

“Heather,” he all but yelled, his voice cracking in alarm.

“It’s ok,” she said soothingly, petting his chest more. 

The blind panic that had taken him at the sight of blood cooled slightly as he realized she hadn’t cut him, there was no pain. No, that blood must be coming from her…

“Heather, what the fuck!”

She definitely laughed this time, and her hips hadn’t stopped moving. Frederick felt sick. He couldn’t believe she was on her – her…

“It’s just a little blood, stop being a baby,” she said coolly. 

Frederick tried to squirm away, but Heather was holding him firmly now. The blood on her hand sickened him as she held his wrists together above his head. She was leaning over him, her breasts brushing his face as she rolled her hips again and again. He hadn’t softened at all. It felt so _good._

“Stop…” he croaked, his voice sounding weak and pathetic. But Heather wasn’t stopping and he knew she wouldn’t. Not when she was getting what she wanted.

There was a weird, coppery smell in the air now. Frederick was breathing so hard he was dangerously close to hyperventilating and he kicked his feet uselessly, arms shaking too much to break Heather’s surprisingly strong grip. She was moving so purposefully now, grinding against his pelvic bone and shifting so that she was holding his wrists beside his chest.

“Jeff… “ she muttered, panting. “Won’t even… touch me. _Fucking_ … asshole.”

Frederick gasped wetly as she thrust her hips with sharp, angry motions. If he closed his eyes tightly he could just focus on the incredible warmth and wetness and not think about _why_ she was so wet. And he couldn’t deny that her hands holding his wrists down was helping. He remembered her duct taping them together and pinning him down, how helpless he had been, how exciting it was. It shouldn’t be, he was a freak, a complete freak, and he was even enjoying _this_ …

He felt Heather’s hips stutter and she began to shake, her mouth falling open as she moaned and ground herself against him. It was all too much for Frederick and within seconds he was coming too, with a broken cry that sounded too much like a sob.

He lay beneath her, wheezing slightly and feeling vaguely sick. Heather was pink and shiny with sweat as she tossed back her hair and eased off him. Frederick couldn’t bring himself to look down.

“It’s a good thing you have dark sheets,” she said with a small laugh and Frederick groaned.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Heather,” he moaned as his breathing finally returned to normal.

“Oh, stop acting like a little kid,” she said, laying down beside him and looking pleased with herself.

Frederick swallowed thickly and finally looked down. He had to swallow back the urge to be sick, bile rising in his throat. His dick looked mutilated, and that’s what really got him. It wasn’t the blood so much as where it might have come from. And looking down at himself, it was too easy to imagine that she had sliced the head of his cock somehow. He looked away, squeezing his eyes shut. He needed a shower.

He felt Heather cuddle closer to him, pulling his face against her chest. Frederick sighed deeply, enjoying the contact despite himself. His heart was beating so fast he was still breathing shallowly against her skin.

“There’s always a little blood your first time anyway,” Heather said with a grin in her voice.

“ _Heather_ ,” Frederick groaned, trying to twist away. But she pulled him back, still laughing.

“You’re such a _baby,_ ” she said, ruffling his hair. He hated it, the way she made him feel like a child. But he couldn’t resist when she cuddled him close either.

She smelled musky and coppery, like blood. It was strange, wanting to pull away and not at the same time. The conflicting feeling left him paralyzed.

“I need a shower,” she said softly, scratching his scalp.

Frederick mumbled in response, half of him wishing she wouldn’t go. The other half wanted her to take him along. As she stumbled off the bed and towards the door, Frederick grabbed a discarded towel off the floor and began rubbing fervently at his groin. His skin burned from the harsh treatment, but it was pulling the blood away, leaving a faint pink stain behind. He looked down at his sheets and the towel in his hand. The sheets were dark grey, but it was clear that something had stained them in a compromising pattern. And the white towel was discolored with blood now too. Frederick sighed. He could only pray that there was time to run them through the laundry before his parents got home. His mother would never touch a pile of dirty laundry, but Frederick would rather die than let the housekeeper see this mess.

The fact that Frederick was not a virgin anymore was difficult to process. He hadn’t really expected it to ever happen since he was so unable to even talk to girls his own age. Sullenly, he thought how incredibly unfair it was that he couldn’t tell anyone. Not that he would ever share the truly unsavory details, but just the fact that he _could_ boast about getting laid and couldn’t made him feel terribly resentful. He knew Heather would probably get in trouble if he told anyone and he didn’t want her to. Then she wouldn’t be able to do it again. Besides, Frederick didn’t actually have any friends. He had no one to boast to.

He listened to the shower run in the next room and wished he could be there with her, and not just because he was still grossly sticky. He sighed, wrapping himself in one of his cleaner sheets.


	7. Chapter 7

The summer had arrived with sudden, blistering heat. One day it had been cool and rainy and the next the sweltering heat had driven out the damp. Along with it, Frederick’s parents had disappeared. Off to their summer house in the Hamptons and Frederick had opted to stay behind. The summer house meant a beach filled with beautiful teenagers who would scorn him and painfully boring parties where he’d be expected to socialize. Then would come the berating from his father for not being more outgoing. Frederick had nothing to do at home either, but at least he’d be left alone. 

And Heather would be with him. She had jumped at the opportunity to make easy money babysitting him for the two months while his parents were away. Frederick couldn’t deny his own excitement over being alone with Heather for _months._ He was excited and a little terrified. He had no idea what she might do to him.

After she had _deflowered_ him, Frederick spent a few days in a blind panic. He was pretty sure it was impossible to get a girl pregnant on her period, but what if he was wrong? They hadn’t used protection. He’d had nightmares about deformed babies and the looks of horror and disgust on his parents’ faces when they learned what he’d done. He had spent a flustered hour in the school library researching pregnancy and now he was certain Heather couldn’t be pregnant but it didn’t entirely calm his anxiety. An irrational part of him was still horrified at the potential consequences and he hated it, he hated feeling so ridiculous and childish.

So as usual, Frederick was a sullen, unhappy mess, barricaded in his room and he hadn’t even said goodbye to his parents when they left. He had his headphones in, listening to Tchaikovsky and feeling maudlin. He had tried to read some of the psychology books he had stolen from the school library before the term ended, but he couldn’t focus. Heather was in the process of ignoring him and it made him feel as bad-tempered as ever.

There was a distant knocking on his bedroom door and Frederick scrambled to pull off his headphones. Heather didn’t usually knock. She was just as happy to barge in without any warning. 

“Come in,” he called, because, for once, he wasn’t in the middle of anything embarrassing.

Heather pushed the door open and stood there in an American flag printed bikini with a towel slung over her shoulder. 

“Come sit by the pool with me,” she said, scratching the back of her calf with a bare toe.

“Uh, I’m OK,” Frederick muttered, turning red and twisting the cable of his headphones nervously. Heather’s bikini was very small.

“God, can you not be such a loser for two seconds? Just _come._ ”

Frederick fought against the heat rising in his face but as Heather bounced away, he knew he couldn’t deny her anything. He pulled on his swimming trunks but still felt too self-conscious to leave off his t-shirt.

Despite the rising heat, Frederick hadn’t spent any time in the pool yet. There was a high fence around their property but Frederick still didn’t like being outside much. He was pale and burned easily and preferred being indoors where he could read or listen to music.

Down by the pool, Heather was reclining on a lounger with her towel thrown aside and sunglasses on her face. The sun itself was blinding and Frederick felt the heat at once, intense after the coolness of his house. Heather peaked at him over her glasses and beckoned him closer.

“Come put lotion on my back,” she said, holding up a bottle of sunscreen.

Frederick sighed. Of course she wanted him to do something for her. Heather rolled over and tugged at the string securing her bikini top, exposing the smooth expanse of her back to him. Still blushing, Frederick squirted a glob of lotion into his hand and began rubbing it into her back and shoulders. She was deliciously warm and now shiny and smelling of artificial coconuts. Frederick was already sweating from the heat and being this close and touching her wasn’t helping. He had been half hard since he first saw her in that bikini.

Heather let out a little appreciative moan as he rubbed the lotion into her skin and then wiggled her hips, making Frederick’s heart contract in his chest.

“Get _all_ my back,” she insisted, shifting her hips again and making her ass jiggle. Frederick swallowed thickly, wondering if she would notice if he adjusted himself in his swim trunks.

He squirted more lotion into his hand and spread it over her lower back, her pinched in waist, the dimples on her lower back, right above her ass. His fingers skimmed the edge of her bikini bottoms and he felt his cock throbbing against the uncomfortable lining of his trunks. Heather made a little happy groan as his hands slid over her skin, now smooth and shiny and oiled.

Heather rolled over, causing Frederick to pull his hands away. He sat back on the other lounger, hunkering over to hide his aching erection. Her bikini top was completely dislodged without the strings keeping it in place and Frederick could see her pink nipples poking over the red, white and blue edges. Frederick’s face was on fire and he tried to look away, but it was difficult. His gaze was only broken when he heard Heather laugh, one of her soft, mysterious giggles that meant nothing good.

When she reached over and touched his bare knee, Frederick couldn’t help but startle a little. That only made her giggle more. She pushed her hand up his trunks as far as she could reach to caress his inner thigh. Frederick stayed completely still, his breath suddenly ragged. Heather leaned over, her hand moving higher, her eyes twinkling. Frederick swallowed hard and leaned back a little, not moving toward her, but giving her better access to the crotch of his swim trunks where her warm hand was brushing against his straining cock, making him twitch. 

“Why are you so jumpy?” she said with a small grin. “Just relax. Come here.”

Frederick was still frozen, still as a statue. He knew what would happen if he did and the thought was both unbearably exciting and uniquely terrifying.

“You’re not on your period again, are you?” he asked nervously.

Heather laughed heartily as she shook her head, looking like she was recalling a fond memory. Frederick should have felt relieved, but he only felt another stab of panic, unhampered by Heather’s hand still roaming in his shorts, soft fingers trailing over his balls. Heather not getting her period could mean she was pregnant, the scared, irrational part of his brain screamed.

“Stop being such a _loser,_ ” Heather moaned, pulling her hand out his trunks and standing up. Her breasts swayed and jiggled as she straddled him on the lounger. Frederick gasped and jerked against her as her warm body pressed onto him.

Frederick panted helplessly as Heather pushed his burning face between her breasts. He was gripping the lounger cushion with white-knuckle intensity as she tugged up his t-shirt to brush her hand over his lower stomach. He let out a hiccupping gasp as she pulled at the elastic waistband of his trunks.

“Heather, wait,” he squeaked out in a blind panic and her hand stilled. She raised an eyebrow at him as he stare up at her imploringly. “S-shouldn’t we use, like, protection?” he finally stuttered out.

Heather threw back her head and howled with laughter. She pulled her hand away from his shorts and grabbed his face, laying a sloppy wet kiss on his forehead.

“Holy shit, you’re such a _moron,_ ” she said, still laughing. “I’m on the pill, you idiot.”

Frederick sighed gustily into her chest as she ruffled his hair. It should have made him feel childish as usual, but he was too relieved to care. He felt her hips roll over him and he gasped, his arousal feeling all the more delicious now that he was sure she wouldn’t get pregnant.

With Heather still on top of him, Frederick allowed her to push him back against the lounger and tug down his trunks as she easily untied the strings holding her bikini bottoms together. Frederick inhaled the sweet, cloying scent of coconut suntan lotion as she rubbed his stomach under his t-shirt and loosely fisted his cock. Frederick groaned, his hands tightening into fists as he pushed into her hand. Heather giggled as she guided him to her cunt, the head of his cock brushing against familiar warmth and wetness. But, he looked closely this time, and saw no sign of blood. Just glistening curls, and as Heather pushed him inside her, he grasped her thighs and let out an embarrassingly high pitched gasp.

It was nicer than the first time, but different. Frederick was still fighting against coming immediately, but she wasn’t as unbearably slick and she felt tighter somehow, like the lack of fluid made the friction more palpable. Frederick sighed, leaning forward to nuzzle her breasts again, because he loved how they felt, so warm and soft and full. His mouth found her nipple easily and he licked it, feeling it harden against his tongue as Heather moaned, her breath hitching. He sucked greedily and suddenly had the unbidden thought of how this was like _nursing_ and how he couldn’t imagine his mother actually breast feeding him, although he’d never thought to ask.

The uncomfortable juxtaposition wasn’t enough to make him stop and he flicked Heather’s nipple with his tongue the way he knew she liked and she arched on top of him, holding his head steady against her chest and tugging at his hair. The little sparks of pain were too much and Frederick came with a sharp wail, pushing his face hard against her breast as his hips jerked spasmodically.

He came back to himself as Heather petted his hair gently. He felt his cock slip out of her as she shifted and he couldn’t raise his head. There was a dull shame in his chest, and he remembered how he had thought about his _mother_ while Heather was fucking him and how it hadn’t disgusted him. But he hadn’t really been thinking about _her,_ not exactly. Just about how she never seemed to care that much for him. Frederick wrinkled his head in confusion as he squirmed uncomfortably. He was too hot and sweaty and sticking unpleasantly to the lounger’s plastic cushions. 

“Don’t you dare leave me hanging,” he heard Heather grumble beside him as she pushed the sweat soaked hair from his forehead.

 _Oh._ She hadn’t come yet. Frederick shifted awkwardly, not sure what she expected him to do.

“You seemed to like eating me out before,” she said with a cheeky grin. Frederick’s mouth dropped open in horror.

“But I just – it’s still all –“ he stuttered.

“Don’t be such a weasel,” she muttered, that cold glint he dreaded returning to her eye as she threaded her hand through his hair and pulled.

Frederick swallowed thickly as she pushed his head down, rearranging herself so that her legs were spread.

“I don’t think I can,” he said in a small voice as she kicked at his prone body, trying to make him move.

“Don’t make me kick your ass, you little freak,” she snarled, shaking his head with the handful of hair with was holding.

Frederick yelped nervously as she manhandled him into position. He tried to breathe deeply and get a handle on his anxiety, laying his face against her smooth thigh. He looked at her blurrily, at how wet and shiny she was, how he could forget what exactly was glistening on her cunt if he just closed his eyes. Heather was impatient, pushing him hard against her and Frederick obeyed meekly, opening his mouth for a tentative lick. She tasted saltier than the last time he had done this, and there was something slimy about the feel of it on his tongue. But it wasn’t entirely unpleasant and Frederick tried not to think so hard as he got to work, licking and tonguing her the way he remembered.

But the more he got into it and the louder Heather’s moans grew, Frederick couldn’t stop thinking about how disgusting it was to be licking his own come out of her cunt. It was nastier than fucking her on her period. But he wasn’t repulsed by it. As he pushed his tongue deeper, making an obscene slurping sound as he sucked in air, he thought about coming inside her and how perverse it was to lick it out. It was enough to make him hard again and Frederick rubbed himself awkwardly against the cushion. The plastic was an uncomfortable tug against moist, sensitive flesh, but he couldn’t stop, just like he couldn’t stop groaning into her cunt, the vibrations making her tremble. Heather ground her hips into his face as he concentrated on her clit, tonguing the hard nub in tight circles until she was groaning and shuddering as she came.

Heather pushed him away and Frederick sat back, cupping his sore cock in one hand and wiping his face clean with the other. Heather grinned as she reached for him, wiping a wet smear off his chin.

“You like the taste of your own come, don’t you, you little freak,” she said as Frederick dropped his gaze in shame, unable to hide the obvious evidence of his hard-on. 

She beckoned him closer and Frederick scrambled to comply, laying his head on her chest as she grabbed his cock in one hand. She tugged roughly on the tender skin and Frederick let out a dry sob, kicking his feet uselessly. He squeezed one breast a little too firmly as her hand chaffed on overly sensitive skin. He sucked on her nipple almost without meaning to, the feel of it in his mouth so comforting and arousing that he came with a hot, painful surge, Heather jerking his raw cock until he sobbed for real, and as she let go as he exhaled a wet gasp.

Frederick lay completely still, panting and unable to move. Heather stood up, shaking out her hair and throwing off her bikini top, still hanging on her by loose strings. She stretched with a pleased sounding sigh and dived into the pool.

He watched her dark head bob above the water as she swam a few laps before rolling onto her back and floating serenely. Frederick felt curiously empty. Although he was horrifically hot and sweaty and sticky, he couldn’t muster the energy to jump into the pool. Instead, he just watched Heather swim.


	8. Chapter 8

Heather was in a horrifically bad mood. Frederick could tell from the sounds of pots and pans being violently clashed together in the kitchen. He was in his room and although his stomach was rumbling with hunger, he didn’t dare venture out and get in her warpath. Frederick picked absently at a scab on his hip as he tried to drown out the sound of Heather’s rampage with a symphony. He had a small collection of scabs and marks left over from his own personal sessions, dragging the nail file or his mother’s sewing scissors over his skin and watching the blood bubble up as his touched himself. He found the danger and pain was just as exciting as the perversity. 

Frederick massaged himself lightly through his jeans as he tore off the scab with a familiar sting and a little smear of blood. Frederick paused before he could get too carried away and listened closely before pushing off his headphones. He couldn’t hear anything except the A/C’s quiet hum and the distant sound of a lawn being mowed. Heather had either left or at least calmed her rage enough to stop banging pots around.

A painful gurgle in his stomach made Frederick stand up, adjusting his half-hard cock in his jeans and stowing his headphones on his record player. He wasn’t sure that Heather had left, but he was certainly hungry enough to risk it.

After poking his head cautiously out his door to see if the coast was clear, Frederick made his way quietly downstairs. The house remained as still and quiet as ever. He snuck silently into the kitchen, feeling strangely guilty like he wasn’t supposed to be there. Frederick opened the fridge and grabbed the first thing he saw: cold pizza from the night before. He stuffed it into his mouth without bothering to reheat it, wolfing down two slices before he grabbed a pudding cup and crossed the kitchen to the drawer for a spoon, finishing a third slice on the way. He went slower with the pudding, but it was still gone before he knew it and he was just going back for a second helping when he saw Heather standing in the doorway and he nearly jumped out his skin.

She leaned against the doorframe; her arms crossed tightly, a small frown on her face. She looked mad but not psychotic anymore. Frederick swallowed hard, wiping a smear of chocolate pudding off his face. Heather advanced on him and he shrunk back automatically, crushing the empty pudding cup his fist.

“Missed a spot,” she said simply, raising her hand to his face to wipe the corner of his mouth with her thumb.

“Thanks,” he muttered thickly, tossing his spoon in the sink and the pudding cup in the trash.

He glanced furtively at her face and its thundercloud expression. He was almost as tall her now.

“Boys are all the same,” she said in a low voice, raising her hand again, this time to push the hair off his forehead.

Frederick didn’t answer. He thought he knew where this was going.

“Did someone have to teach all of you to be assholes or were you just born that way?” she continued, her hand drifting down his face to settle around his throat. Her thumb pressed into his windpipe and Frederick gasped, automatically trying to struggle away.

Heather caught him before he got too far, grabbing his wrist and jerking him around so that he was slammed against the counter. Frederick squealed in pain as she twisted his arm roughly behind his back and the kitchen counter bit into his stomach. Heather was right behind him, pressing her body against his so that he was pinned against the counter, struggling feebly.

“You’re a nasty little freak, Freddy, and one day you’ll grow up to be a lying asshole too,” she snarled and there was a note of high emotion in her voice, beyond just meanness, like she was really hurting.

Frederick heaved in a panicked breath as he fought to break her grip, but she was too strong. He felt her hand slip over his stomach to fondle his crotch and his breathing stuttered painfully. 

“You get hard at everything, don’t you?” she sneered, squeezing his balls in a rough grip. 

“Heather, stop,” he pleaded in a high, tight voice but she only squeezed tighter.

“Why should I?” she said, her high and slightly hysterical. “You like this. You like it when I hurt you, you like eating my cunt, you like sucking my tits…”

All the while, she groped him roughly, pinching his cock in a painful grip that was making him hard. Just like she said, he liked this.

“Heather, _please,_ ” he moaned helplessly, squirming against the counter.

“You _really_ like sucking my tits,” she mused in a calmer voice, giving his cock head a sharp pinch that made him gasp. “What, do I remind you of your mommy?”

The sound Frederick made was somewhere between a sob and a tortured groan. His cock hardened and he pushed his hips into her hand unconsciously. 

“Oh my god, that’s it,” Heather said in a slightly awed voice. “Do you want me to be your _mommy,_ Freddy?”

“No,” he tried to say firmly, but his voice betrayed him by cracking.

“Well, _mommy_ thinks you’ve been bad, and you know what happens to bad boys? They get _spanked_ ,” Heather said, soft enough for Frederick to know that she was serious.

Frederick’s guttural moan was enough to seal his fate. Heather manhandled him away from the counter and pushed him toward the door, still holding his arm in a death grip. Frederick tripped over his own feet and Heather’s hand on his wrist all that kept him upright. Not for long though, because in the living room, Heather shoved him forward so that he hit the arm of the couch, taking the blow in the stomach with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

As he struggled to breathe, Heather took the opportunity to twist his other arm around his back, holding his wrists securely together. Frederick kicked feebly, but Heather easily avoided his bare feet swinging at her legs. Frederick sucked in massive, labored breaths as he felt heather slip something soft around his wrists, he felt her snap the springy thing against his skin and he thought it must be her scrunchie. Before he could slip out of the stretchy elastic, Heather twisted it hard, wrapping it so tightly around his wrists that he couldn’t wriggle out. But it did bite painfully into his skin, so constricting that he was already losing feeling in his fingertips.

In no time, Heather had gotten his pants undone and was pulling them down along with his briefs, just enough to expose his ass. Frederick tried to wriggle off the arm of the couch, but Heather held him firmly. When he felt the first slap of her hand on his cheek, Frederick jumped. His cock was pressed uncomfortably against the arm of the couch, still trapped in his jeans and twisted at a painful angle. Heather struck him again and he jerked forward, yelping as his cock was crushed again.

“Please, Heather,” Frederick choked out, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. “L-let me go.”

“Not until mommy punishes you, Freddy,” she said in a taunting voice, smacking his ass again with an open hand. His cheek stung and Heather gently rubbed the tender skin, making him want to grind his hard cock against the couch.

Frederick braced himself for more blows, but they didn’t come. Frederick stayed as still as he could, his breath coming in painful wheezes, his wrists throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He heard Heather fumble with something on the end table and then, without warning, a _whoosh_ and an excruciating crack on his tender ass. Frederick howled, bucking against the couch and rubbing his still hard cock in the process.

Heather had picked up one of his mother’s pretentious coffee table books, one of the smaller and thinner ones, but the pain was still intense as she used it again, spanking one cheek and then the other in quick succession. Tears burned his eyes as she kept hitting him and he was grinding his cock onto the couch with every blow, unable to help himself. His entire ass was an agony of bright, burning pain.

“You like that, Freddy?” Heather sneered as she smacked him. “You like it when mommy spanks you?”

Frederick wailed, choking on sobs even when she stopped, dropping the book on the floor beside him. Frederick couldn’t make out the title through his tears, but he thought he recognized the blur of color. One of his mother’s museum books about fine art.

“You do have a cute butt, Freddy,” Heather cooed mockingly and her hand skimmed over his burning cheeks, making him twitch from the sharp sting. “So red and pretty. Have you learned your lesson yet?”

Frederick huffed, a wet snort through his still flowing tears. He couldn’t answer because he had no idea what lesson he was supposed to be learning. He rocked his hips minutely, enough to stimulate his straining cock even a little. 

“P-please stop,” he managed to stutter through strained sobs.

“Only if you apologize for eating all the pizza,” she said sternly with a series of hard smacks.

“I- ah – I’m sorry!” 

“Say it right!”

She didn’t stop hitting him as he struggled to comply. It was hard to get the words out and the pain made it impossible to think.

“I’m sorry, mommy!” he finally spit out with a tortured sob. “I’m sorry, mommy, _please._ ”

Heather gave his ass a final swat, a stinging reminder of his sore skin, and pushed him sideways onto the floor. Frederick fell with an undignified grunt, his face planting on the floor and rubbing abrasively against the carpet. He panted, turning his face to the wide so he could suck in air, stuck in the most embarrassing position, with his bare ass in the air and his legs bent under him, his bound hands and throbbing wrists sitting uselessly on the small of his back. He had lost all the feeling his fingers.

As he struggled feebly to push himself up off the floor, Heather helped him along by grabbing him by the scrunchie holding his wrists together. Frederick howled as pain seared up his arms. Frederick sat back on his heels despite his sore ass, slumped in a kneeling position and breathing hard. Heather released him and sat before him on the couch. Frederick sniffled, still hiccupping slightly as his sobs subsided. Heather’s face was deeply pink but he couldn’t read her expression, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted.

“Come here, Freddy,” she whispered. “Come to mommy.”

Frederick shuffled forward, his butt stinging and his arms aching, right into Heather’s open arms. She crushed his face against her chest and he immediately started sobbing again, completely unable to help himself. Heather shushed him and petted his hair soothingly, her touch so soft and gentle that Frederick was overwhelmed, pressing his face deeper into her cleavage and inhaling her sweet scent. His real mother smelled nothing like this.

As he cried himself out with heaving gasps, Heather pulled him back slightly, repositioning him so that her bare leg was pressed against his crotch. Frederick groaned, squirming in place. His pants had fallen down to his knees, but his underwear was still snagged on his hard-on, which ached, painfully hard and chaffed by rubbing roughly through his jeans.

“Come suck mommy’s titty,” Heather said in a low voice, leaning back as she pulled up her shirt, popping her left breast free from her lacey bra. 

Frederick surged forward with a groan, grinding himself harder on her leg as his mouth found her nipple without hesitation. He sucked greedily as he humped her leg, the helpless of his bound hands and the pain of his ass enhancing the sensation. He was a sick, twisted, little freak but he was her sick, twisted, little freak. And she reminded him of that fact every time she tugged on a handful of hair as he suckled her hardening nipple. 

“Yeah, you’re mommy’s little bitch, aren’t you?” she muttered huskily and Frederick moaned, his hips working harder as he tried to get himself off. “There’s a good boy,” she said softly and Frederick gasped, his hips twitching and his numb hands twisting as he came hotly in his briefs.

He slumped forward, panting and wheezing against her chest. Heather combed his hair with her fingers, rubbing the overheated skin on the back of his neck. He felt her lean forward, fumbling for his wrists and the scrunchie that kept them together. Frederick could do nothing to help her, he was completely boneless. He still whined helplessly as she untwisted the elastic digging into his skin and when his hands came free he hissed at the pain, trying feebly to flex his numb fingers.

“You’re a little freak, huh,” Heather said, almost fondly, as she fixed her shirt. She made no move to help Frederick with his clothes or push him off her chest.

Frederick groaned in embarrassment, the familiar post-orgasmic shame hitting him like a brick. He pushed himself away from Heather shakily, his legs trembling erratically as he tried to stand. Heather finally helped him and he found himself in her arms again, his hand in an agony of pins and needles, enough to bring fresh tears to his eyes. Heather cupped his cheek and drew him close, kissing him soundly on the mouth. Frederick sighed breathily, her mouth so warm and wet against his. 

“Go take a shower, freak,” she said after pulling away.

He swallowed, swaying on the spot as Heather disentangled herself and walked off. Frederick could do nothing but collapse on the couch, his ass smarting terrifically. He gritted his teeth against the pain in his hands. He would probably have to ice them. He didn’t even remotely have the energy now though. He wondered distantly what Jeff had done this time to piss Heather off so much and his thoughts ping ponged quickly between hating the guy and being disturbingly grateful.

For the time being, Frederick couldn’t move from the couch. He looked down and spotted the book that Heather has used to spank him where she had discarded it on the floor. An illustrated guide to the works of Edgar Degas.

**Author's Note:**

> "Dear Diary: Heather told me she teaches people 'real life.' She said, real life sucks losers dry."
> 
> \- _Heathers ___


End file.
